


Don't Look Back

by soft_princess



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Community: maleslashminis, M/M, Post-Episode: s05e22 Not Fade Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-04
Updated: 2007-11-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23132761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soft_princess/pseuds/soft_princess
Summary: "Are you going to kiss me or are you going to wait until hell freezes over?"
Relationships: Charles Gunn/Wesley Wyndam-Pryce
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Don't Look Back

> "When a thing is done, it's done. Don't look back. Look forward to your next objective." -- George C. Marshall (1880 - 1959)
> 
> Source: [the quotations page](http://www.quotationspage.com/)

It's morning. Wesley can feel the sunlight on his face and hear the garbage truck in the alley behind their apartment complex. In the kitchen, the kettle goes off, and there are the sounds of Gunn grumbling under his breath for it to "keep it down." To let Wesley sleep.

They're both prone to talking to appliances these days. 

"Hey, sleepyhead," Gunn says from the doorway. Wesley rolls over to look at him and smiles. Gunn looks well rested for once.

"Good morning," Wesley replies. "Was that the kettle I heard?"

"Yeah, but you'll have to get out of bed if you want your tea, cause I ain't making it for you, man." Gunn gives a short laugh and sits on the edge of the bed.

Daringly, Wesley lifts his hand and puts it on the small of Gunn's back, feeling the heat of his skin through the thin t-shirt. "How long have you been awake?" He tries for a casual tone, but one look at Charles confirms what they both know: they are very far past the casual stage of their relationship by now.

They've been living in this ratty old apartment since Wolfram & Hart's demise several months ago, but yesterday, for the first time, they went to bed together instead of separately. Their relationship has been shifting for months, years maybe: put on hold, set back, and finally able to move forward.

Gunn shivers under Wesley's touch. "Not that long. Would've stayed in bed, but that damn cat wanted out."

Wesley chuckles softly, propping himself up on one elbow. He slides his hand under Gunn's shirt, fingers ghosting over the skin. "You love Lara, Charles, even when she wakes you up so early."

"I do," Gunn admits with a smile. "But, damn, you think it'd kill her to wait an hour?"

Wesley's hand moves higher, slowly mapping the smooth muscles of Gunn's back one by one. "Probably. Although nothing stops you from simply coming _back_ to bed once she's out."

Gunn's breathing hitches and he shivers again. "Bet now you're laughing at me."

Wesley frowns, wondering for a moment if perhaps he isn't moving too fast. He still asks. "And what if I am?"

Gunn turns and grins at him. There's a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, and Wesley is reminded again of last night's quiet admission about Gunn's complete inexperience with men. With everything they've gone through over the past five years, together and on their own, Wesley often forgets how young Charles still is.

* * *

The cat was a gift from one of Anne's kids. The young girl, barely fourteen if that, had found the abandoned kitten in an alley not far from the shelter. Anne had been unwilling to keep it, and Gunn had fallen for the ball of fur the moment she'd looked at him and meowed.

He'd gotten back to the apartment that evening with a pet carrier, a litter box, cat food, and several unopened packs of cat toys. He'd dropped the kitten on the couch next to Wesley and said: "That's Lara Croft. Don't piss her off, cause she's gonna kick your ass."

Wesley had failed to see what was so funny about that until Gunn had come home a few days later with the Tomb Raider video game and two movies in his hands.

* * *

He sits up and cups Gunn's cheek with the hand that isn't settled comfortably between warm shoulder blades. He wants to kiss that grin, taste it, learn it, make it his own if he can. If Gunn will let him.

"Are you going to kiss me or are you going to wait until hell freezes over?" Gunn asks, suddenly.

"Perhaps I should make you wait," Wesley teases. When his gaze shifts from Gunn's lips to his eyes, he finds the uncertainty has been replaced by a flash of lust, and Wesley does _not_ make Gunn wait.

He kisses him gently at first, lips brushing against lips, eyes open. He rasps a finger on hairless skin, feels Gunn shiver again, stronger, under Wesley's touch, and he kisses him harder. Wesley closes his eyes when Gunn pushes back.

"You naked under there?" Gunn asks, a little breathless, when they pull apart. He puts a hand on Wesley's thigh and tugs on the sheet covering it, but not hard enough to pull it away.

"Do you want me to be?" Wesley replies with a shiver of his own. It's been so long, too long, since he's been touched like this.

"Yeah," Gunn says, and his voice is hoarse and low in his throat. "Yeah, I think I do."

Wesley puts a hand over Gunn's on his thigh and squeezes it. "Then undress me," he whispers, before capturing Gunn's mouth for a second, harder, kiss.

Strong hands grip his shoulders, toppling him onto the bed, on his back. Gunn straddles him, never breaking their lips apart as he pushes the sheet away. Wesley shivers and grips Gunn's shoulders, licking kiss-warm lips and coaxing them open. Gunn moans and says: "Tea's gonna have to wait."

"Water can easily be boiled again," Wesley agrees, his lips barely half an inch away from Gunn's mouth.

"Wes," Gunn whispers quietly. "I've got no idea what I'm doing here."

"What? Undressing me?" Wesley nibbles at Gunn's cheek, down his jaw to his neck. "Relax," he murmurs against the skin. "It isn't that different from being with a woman. Just do what feels good, all right?" He rubs his hands over Gunn's back and kisses his shoulder.

"You know," Gunn says, pulling back and sitting on his heels. "Would've saved us a lot of trouble if we'd just figured this out, the whole you-me thing, a few years back."

He isn't wrong, it _would_ have saved the trouble, and possibly a lot of heartache, but Wesley shakes his head nonetheless. "Better not dwell on the past," he says. That way lies thinking about things he's promised himself he would put behind him when he'd woken up, strangely alive, after Wolfram & Hart fell.

"What's done's done, right?" Gunn smiles and pulls his shirt over his head, uncovering smooth, dark skin.

Wesley doesn't resist touching it. He runs a hand up to Gunn's collarbone, rubbing and caressing the skin, while the other curls around an exposed hip. "So handsome," he murmurs. He wants to say more, but Gunn bends down and stops him with lips and tongue, coaxing and probing.

It's only a matter of seconds before sheet and boxer shorts -- both pairs -- are discarded to the floor and Gunn is pinning Wesley underneath him with his body, sliding against Wesley's slowly, tentatively, a sharp contrast to the urgency of his lips. Wesley wraps a hand behind Gunn's neck, holding him still while he explores and tastes. "Slow down," he whispers against Gunn's lips.

"I'm not doing this right?"

"No, no, you are," Wesley replies quickly, not letting Gunn pull back at all. "I want to enjoy this, enjoy you."

Gunn chuckles and struggles against the hands on his back until Wesley lets him go. He sits down on his heels, legs spread.

Wesley gulps at the sight, and lets his eyes rake over Gunn's skin, down to his crotch. "Perhaps you should come back here," he says, and licks his lips.

But Gunn just stays where he is and stares at him. "I kinda like just looking at you," he says with a leer.

Wesley smirks. He runs a hand down his stomach and to his thigh, and grabs his cock in his fist. He never takes his eyes off Gunn's face, sees him bite his lower lip, gaze shifting from Wesley's eyes to his crotch.

"Damn, man," Gunn groans. "That's hot." His own hand drifts down and Wesley watches him cup his cock absently.

"I must say, you're pretty damn hot yourself," Wesley replies, breathless.

"Yeah?"

"Yes," Wesley moans. "Definitely." He sits up and puts a hand on Gunn's thigh, dragging it slowly up and down. Gunn shudders under the touch. "I would be very happy to show you how much I enjoy watching you."

"Oh, really?" Gunn gives him a mischievous smile and strokes his cock expertly.

Wesley has to let go of his own cock, before he makes himself come from this. He feels Gunn shiver a little more against his palm, before he moves his hand to Gunn's erection and wraps it around Gunn's hand.

"Fuck, yeah," Gunn whispers under his breath. He thrusts into their combined grip, mouth opened slightly, and Wesley can't get enough of the sight of him like this.

But then Gunn is pushing him on the bed, climbing over Wesley again, and pinning him with his weight. Their mouths meet again, and they moan when Gunn's cock, slick and huge, slides against Wesley's hip.

* * *

They survived the apocalypse they precipitated by some divine intervention neither of them have been willing to question. Spike and Angel both went their separate ways, and Charles spent too much time in the hospital, and clearly, not enough time here, in this bed.

In Wesley's mind, it's clear he died that day, at Vail's hand. He died and shed that part of himself that held too much guilt and sorrow to continue living.

And then he woke up.

He's unwilling to dwell on the past that stretches beyond that day. They never speak of Illyria.

When they made the decision to move into this apartment, it was out of necessity. It's easier to keep track of each other this way, to watch each other's back. They chose this place for its location -- close enough to Anne's shelter that they could easily walk there every day -- more than for itself. It's old, badly cared for, dirty looking; the exact opposite of what Wolfram & Hart offered them.

* * *

Wesley shifts under Gunn's weight, hands gripping on Gunn's shoulders and feeling the muscles twitch against his palms. His cock slides perfectly against Gunn's, and he hears him mutter a curse. "Feels good?" Wesley asks, mouthing kisses on Gunn's jaw.

"Yeah, shit, yeah," Gunn mutters, and he returns Wesley's kisses and speeds up his thrusts. "This is good, right? I'm doing this okay?" His voice is hoarse, but not uncertain. "We can keep doing this?"

"Bloody-- yes, this is wonderful." It's more than wonderful, it feels amazing. Wesley shudders and lets his hands drift from shoulders, down back, to grab Gunn's firm ass and shove him harder against Wesley. "I'm not going to break if you go hard, Charles," he whispers when Gunn moans. "Don't hold back."

There's a hiss above him and Gunn buries his head in the crook of Wesley's neck, murmuring again and again: "Yeah, yeah, _yeah_."

Wesley arches his hips to meet the next thrust, and the next, cock sliding against hip, against cock, slick and impossibly hard. And suddenly so close. He hears and feels Gunn's breathing, harsh and strong against his neck, sending shivers racking Wesley's body. Wesley lets go of one cheek and takes advantage of Gunn pulling back to slide his hand between their bodies, wrapping a tight fist around Gunn's cock. He wants both cocks sliding slick against his palm, but he knows there's no way they'll both fit.

But it doesn't matter, because Gunn is gasping over him, biting Wesley's shoulder, and his thrusts become erratic. Just before he comes, Gunn arches his back, every muscle in his body tightening, and he lets out a low grunt. Wesley strokes the erection in his hand fast and sure, eyes trained on Gunn's face and never wavering, until Charles slumps, boneless, half on and half off Wesley.

Hand slicked with Gunn's come, Wesley grips his own cock and doesn't slow down. He's close, so damn close, and he closes his eyes, remembering the look on Gunn's face, and the feel of his thick cock pulsing in Wesley's fist.

He feels a hand wrap around his own and his eyes fly open to see Gunn watching him, eyes dark, still panting and looking flushed, as flushed as dark skin allows. That does it.

Spent, he wraps an arm around Gunn's torso, and lays his head against Gunn's shoulder. They stay in bed late after that, even once they've gained back their breath and stopped shaking. Wesley's hands move slowly, so slowly, on Gunn's skin, feeling him breathe.

Gunn kisses Wesley's head. "Getting up's overrated," he whispers into Wesley's hair. 

Wesley can't agree more.

* * *


End file.
